


Paved with good intentions

by StillWatersAreDeep



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dumbledore Bashing, Gen, Humor, Parody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillWatersAreDeep/pseuds/StillWatersAreDeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way to hell is paved with good intentions. Or: "How Albus Dumbledore tried to send Tom Riddle to Hell but ended up being put there himself"-A drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paved with good intentions

**Paved with good intentions**

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 **W** **arning:** If you read the summary, you'll know that this contains Dumbledore bashing.

 **AN:** I little amusing thought I had this morning which I decided to share with you. Enjoy.

* * *

****-~-~-** **P** **aved with good intentions** **-~-~-** **

**-~-~-by Still** **W** **aters** **A** **re** **D** **eep-~-~-**

It was a usual working day for her. Since the beginning of time or more specifically death, she had been one of the spirits who decide where the ghosts of the death would dwell for the rest of eternity. And today she was met with two ghosts at once, who waited in front of her desk to get assigned to a place in the afterlife.

One of them was an old man with twinkling blue eyes and a long white beard, wearing colourful, eye-blinding robes. _A wizard_ , she correctly guessed.

The second man, was standing by the other end of her table, looking rather annoyed. It was obvious that he didn't want to be in the present of the old wizard. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with his wavy, black hair getting its first grey strands. _But a_ _t least this one knows how to dress without giving everyone looking at him eye cancer,_ the spirit thought, as she looked at his elegant dark green robes with silver trimming.

Wanting to get the pair done, seeing as other ghosts were already waiting in line to get assigned to a place, she asked out loud, "So, where should I place you two?"

"Tom obviously belongs into Hell," the older wizard immediately answered.

"And why is that?" the spirit asked, curious.

"For one, he murdered his own family," the white-haired wizard argued.

"If I'm not mistaken, Albus," the dark haired wizard spoke up, "you killed your own sister. So we're even on that point."

"Second," the man named Albus continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "He's a power-hungry bastard."

"And having been the master of the Elder Wand, wanting to collect all three Hollows doesn't make you a power-hungry old man?" Tom asked rhetorically. "Besides, my parents were married. So technically I'm not a bastard."

"Third," the older wizard gritted out between his teeth, starting to get annoyed by Tom's comebacks. "He tried to become immortal by creating Horcruxes."

"While you had your monthly does of the Elixir of Life," Tom said in a bored voice. Dumbledore was making this far too easy for him.

"You," Dumbledore began, but stopped himself just in time. He was sure that if he mentioned 'killing innocent people', Tom would once again bring up his sister Ariana. So instead he said, "you torture your own followers!"

"At least I do it myself and don't try to hide it," Tom Riddle said. "But you, the 'oh so great Albus Dumbledore'," he said mockingly, "You instead prefer to torture your followers indirectly. Sending dear Severus to me to get Crusioed, sending Black to Azkaban without a trial to get daily visits from Dementors, sending Harry Potter to his magic-hating relatives to get starved and bullied," Tom counted.

"You...you," Dumbledore stammered, speechless. "You don't know love," Albus finally accused when he got his bearings back.

"Really?" the wizard previous feared under the name of Lord Voldemort asked in challenge. "I would say that I had enough fatherly love for Severus to ask his annoying love-of-his-life thrice, TRICE, Albus!," he stressed. "To step aside so that I may spare her."

"You didn't do it out of love," Dumbledore answered.

"And what else, pray tell, should motive an insane dark lord to ask a woman thrice to step aside besides love in some form or another? Honouring the promise I gave Severus?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Asking once would have been enough. Besides, it wasn't like anyone was there to check if I held up my end of the bargain," Tom answered his own question, making a dismissive gesture with his hands.

"You burdened young Draco Malfoy with an impossible task when you ordered him to kill me," Dumbledore said to change the topic, seeing as he wouldn't get his way with talking about love.

"And forcing Potter to protect the Philopher's Stone, to kill a Basilisk and to hunt down and destroy my Horcruxes before he even finished his NEWTs was just a walk in the park?" Tom asked.

Suddenly struck by a new idea induced by Tom's latest argument, Dumbledore said, "You endangered the pupils of Hogwarts by letting a Basilisk roam freely through the halls." Believing that he finally had found something to which Tom had nothing to counter with, the old man's blue eyes were twinkling with happiness, satisfaction and accomplishment.

Tom had to say that this accusation was much harder to counter than the previous ones. There was the incident with the Dementors which nearly killed Potter in his third year. But the blame laid more with the Ministry than with the old fool. Which reminded him...

"Wasn't it three, or in your case two, years ago that you let a pink toad freely roam through Hogwarts, endangering students and teachers alike?" he asked. As far as he was concerned, Dolores Umbridge counted as a creature as she was even less human than he.

"You stole Hufflepuff's cup from Mrs Smith," Albus pointed out, not able to come up with a better crime after Tom found a comeback to the Basilisk.

"Didn't you in turn steal the Gaunt's ring from me?" Tom asked, inspecting his nails in boredom.

"I didn't steal it. I just found it lying in an abandoned house," Dumbledore uselessly tried to defend his action.

"And there were no wards in place to keep stealing people like you out of it," Tom pointed out offhandedly.

"And Gringotts doesn't have wards to keep burglars away?" Dumbledore countered, referring to Tom's break in in 1991.

"They have," Tom admitted with a smirk, cleaning his fingernails. "But apparently they were too powerful for you, so you had to send Potter to do the dirty work for you." Tom's smirk grew when he saw Albus' bewildered face.

"You forced Harry into competing in the Triwizard tournament," Dumbledore stated. He was starting to run out of accusing things to say.

"And you helped plan the thing in the first place. Without you, Barty would never have gotten the opportunity to trick the goblet into choosing Potter as a champion," was Tom's answer. He even went so far as to give Albus a mocking 'Thank you'-bow.

"You possess people," Dumbledore accused, referring to Quirrell.

"You meddle with time," was Tom's answer, remembering the story Severus had told him about how Sirius Black had escaped with the help of a time-turner.

"That's something completely different," Albus argued.

As amusing as it was to listen to the two of them arguing back and forth with Tom throwing every argument back at the older wizard, the spirit still had a job to do and other ghosts to place. Besides, Albus' accusations were getting boring and their argument was starting to turn childish. Therefore, she thought that it was time to stop their little 'talk'.

"Thank you for your well-founded argumentation, Albus" the spirit said in a tone that made it clear that she didn't want either of them to interrupt her.

"As you two have so nicely pointed out, the crimes you both have committed during your lives only leaves me with one option. I'll send the both of you straight to Hell. Have a nice stay," she said with a friendly smile and with that both ghosts were instantly transported to their newly assigned place in the afterlife. Though, luckily for the other occupants of Hell, they were placed at different ends of Hell, otherwise they wouldn't stop arguing until the end of eternity.

* * *

**AN2:** I hope you enjoyed this little drabble and had a laugh or two. If I forget an important point in their argument, feel free to leave me a review.


	2. Make a Heaven of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus Dumbledore's good intentions got him and Voldemort send to Hell. And now, three centuries later Voldemort is working as an advocate. Or: “How Tom Riddle made himself a Heaven of Hell”-A drabble.

****M** **ake a** **H** **eaven of** **H** **ell** **

 

**Disclaimer:** see previous chapter

 

**Summary:** Albus Dumbledore's good intentions got him and Voldemort send to Hell. And now, three centuries later Voldemort is working as an advocate. Or: “How Tom Riddle made himself a Heaven of Hell”-A drabble.

 

**W** **arning:** Besides the title there are a few Milton quotes in this drabble. Dumbledore bashing will be in the next drabble.

 

**AN:** I am currently re-watching the Harry Potter films and the scene at the end of PS where Dumbledore steals a Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Bean from Harry inspired me to write another short drabble. With a second one following once I finish watching all 8 movies.

 

 

****-~-~-** **M** **ake a** **H** **eaven of** **H** **ell** **-~-~-** **

**-~-~-by Still** **W** **aters** **A** **re** **D** **eep-~-~-**

 

“ _What though the field be lost?_  
All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,  
And study of revenge, immortal hate,  
And courage never to submit or yield:  
And what is else not to be overcome?”

 

_Paradise Lost, J. Milton_

 

****-~-~-** **M** **ake a** **H** **eaven of** **H** **ell** **-~-~-** **

 

As much as Tom Marvolo Riddle disliked Muggles, he could not deny that during the last three centuries he developed a special liking to John Milton's Paradise Lost. When he read the book for the first time out of sheer boredom, he stumbled over more than one passage in Satan's long monologues that agreed with his own ideals and believes.

 

_And to think that I have the old fool to thank for my position,_ he thought, remembering how he received his current position of power.

 

He'd just rather easily thrown back every argument Dumbledore had brought forth when the female spirit condemned him to Hell and he was force-Apparatedto another place in the afterlife.

 

“Name?” a male spirit asked him.

 

“Tom Riddle,” he answered as he took in the room with its stone benches and green-yellow lights.

 

“Tom _Marvolo_ Riddle?” the spirit ask for clarification.

 

“Yes,” Tom answered, getting annoyed.

 

Searching around on his desk, the spirit finally found the scroll with Tom's name on it. “Ah, here it is!” he exclaimed triumphantly, opened the bindings and began to read through the scroll.

 

“The deeds of yours that were collected at the entrance already earned you five century long stay here in Hell. And I wouldn't be surprised if there are more crimes you have to pay for that are not listed here,” the spirit stated. “However, like anyone who comes here you have the chance to do penance for all of your crimes. But I have to warn you. Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.”

 

“And what if I do not want to?” Tom asked, raising a brow, his lips forming into a smirk. He did not regret what he did and saw no need to repent for them.

 

The spirit smiled. “If you decide against penitence, then you'll stay here for the rest of time, with no chance of ever seeing paradise or going to the next great adventure.”

 

“And what does staying here entail?” Tom asked, not interested in either paradise or the next great adventure.

 

“You would receive a room and, of course, an occupation. No place for the idles here.”

 

Interested, Riddle asked, “And what occupation would I receive?”

 

“Let me see...” the spirit said and once again consulted the scroll in his hands. “You are far to impatience to become one of the overseers. But if the little note here is correct, you would be a good advocate candidate. The way you handled Mr Dumbledore certainly speaks in your favour. So Mr Riddle, now that you know your options what is your decision? Will you do penance for your crimes to receive your pass out of Hell?”

 

“I'll rather become an advocate,” Riddle answered.

 

“Are you sure?” the spirit asked. “Once denied, you will never again receive the offer for penitence.”

 

“Oh, I'm quite sure, I assure you.”

 

“Then so it shall be,” the spirit said. “You'll be introduced to your new task tomorrow. Until then, enjoy your new room.” And with that, he was once again force-Apparated to what had been his room for the last three centuries. And not for one day had he regretted his decision against penance.

 

 

_Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven,_ he thought with a smile on his face as he left his room to visit his clients of the day. Oh, how he loved to visit the fools that had chosen the way of redemption, condemning themselves to years, if not centuries of agony and pain just for the chance of entering Heaven. He enjoyed to stand there, watching as they were tormented for their crimes, unable to escape while he was spared from even feeling the slightest discomfort and walked around as he pleased as long as he did his daily task. And what an enjoyable task it was.

 

As an advocate, it was his responsibility to visit the penitents when their time of penitence was nearly done. He was to read out all the crimes that were listed during their placement in Hell at the entrance desk, to tell them how much penitence time these crimes demanded and to state how much of it they already served. He loved to see how their eyes lighten up with hope and joy when they realised that they served nearly all of their sentence.

 

And every time, he would put on his prettiest smile and inform them that they nearly served their time for all the crimes they committed that sentenced them to Hell, confirming the penitents thoughts. Even without using his Legilimency skills, he knew that nearly all of them believed that he was there to tell them that they would be realised from their torment early for their good conduct.

 

But how wrong they were. His task was not to shorten their time of redemption. On the contrary, his job was to lengthen their time of anguish. Mockingly he would compliment them for how well they have atoned so far and then add, “I'm confident that you'll bear the price for the crimes that were not taken into account at your entrance with the same endurance and passion. So let's see what crimes you still have to atone...”

 

With that, Tom would list every little crime he saw the penitents having committed during their lives, getting high on how fast heir hope turned to despair and horror. He even twisted some events just to give them another three days of suffering before he finally announced the final verdict for them. And sometimes, he amused himself by deliberately holding back some of their crimes, just to revisit them later and once again see the despair overcome them when they learned that they were far away from their pass to Heaven.

 

With a satisfied smirk on his face, he would tell them his typical “Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear,” turn around and walk away from them as their torment went on for another decade or century. Oh how he enjoyed his new job.

 

Going to his assigned box, he took out the scrolls for today and was very gleeful when he saw who his one and only client of the day would be: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

 

“Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep,” he quoted Milton as he made his way to the part of Hell where the scroll said Dumbledore was currently residing. He could not wait to have the old fools whole life laid out for his pursue, free to find any little crime he could see. _Oh, yes, today will be a very, very good day._

 

****-~-~-** **M** **ake a** **H** **eaven of** **H** **ell** **-~-~-** **

 

**AN2:** The next drabble is called “A Hell of Heaven” and will be centred on Albus Dumbledore. It should be posted sometime after Easter.


	3. A Hell of Heaven

****A** **H** **ell of** **H** **eaven****

 

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter/drabble.

 

**Summary:** Albus Dumbledore's good intentions got him and Voldemort send to Hell. And now, three centuries later Voldemort visits him to lengthen Dumbledore's stay, less the old man gets send to his next great adventure too early. Or: “How Albus Dumbledore made himself a Hell of Heaven”-A drabble.

 

**W** **arning:** If you read the summary and 'Paved with good intentions', you'll know that this contains Dumbledore bashing. There is also the mention of homosexuality as a crime. The readers of my other stories will know that I have nothing against homosexuality, especially considering that I write slash. However, it had to be mentioned in a negative way to fit into the story line.

 

**AN:** Here is the promised third drabble in my  'Paved with good intentions'  series.  I never planned that after Easter would turn out to be after  t hree Easters.  Sorry for that hyper long delay.

 

 

****-~-~-** **A** **H** **ell of** **H** **eaven** **-~-~-** **

**-~-~-by Still** **W** **aters** **A** **re** **D** **eep-~-~-**

 

“ _The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven”_

 

_Paradise Lost, J. Milton_

 

****-~-~- A** **H** **ell of** **H** **eaven** **-~-~-** **

 

Albus Dumbledore was confused. Before he died, he'd been looking forward to the next great adventure, eager to see his beloved Ariana again. But the first thing that greeted him was not his sister. No, it was none-other than Tom Riddle.

 

“So, where should I place you two?” a spirit asked.

 

_Ah, that's why I'm here,_ Dumbledore was relieved to finally receive an explanation for his current detour. _A_ _lemon drop right about now_ _would be great,_ he wished, hoping that the afterlife worked like the Room of Requirement. To Dumbledore’s annoyance, it did not and so he had to do without his favourite sweet for the time being.

 

Without his favourite Muggle sweet, he did not want to waist any more time before he could be reunited with his sister, thus he immediately replied, “Tom obviously belongs into Hell.”

 

He hated how Tom had rather easily thrown back every argument he'd brought forth. But it at least had the desired result. Tom was condemned to Hell. _W_ _here he rightfully belongs_ , Dumbledore thought satisfied. _If only_ _the spirit had not condemned_ _me_ _too,_ he thought riled up as he was force-Apparated to another place in the afterlife.

 

“Name?” a male spirit asked him.

 

“Albus Dumbledore,” he answered as he took in the room with its stone benches and green-yellow lights.

 

“Albus _Percival Wulfric Brian_ Dumbledore?” the spirit ask for clarification.

 

“Yes,” Dumbledore answered with a sweet smile. _This is my way out of Hell_ , he thought. The spirit certainly looked like someone that had enough power to overturn the previous ruling.

 

Searching around on his desk, the spirit finally found the scroll with Albus's name on it. “Ah, here it is!” he exclaimed triumphantly, opened the bindings and began to read through the scroll.

 

“The deeds of yours that were collected at the entrance already earned you a three century long stay here in Hell. And I wouldn't be surprised if there are more crimes you have to pay for that are not listed here,” the spirit stated. “However, like anyone who comes here you have the chance to do penance for all of your crimes. But I have to warn you. Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light,” the spirit repeated the traditional speech that was given to all new residents of Hell.

 

“Surely there must be a mistake on the scroll,” he replied, his grandfatherly smile in place. “I'm sure it only says a three _day_ long stay.”

 

“No, you earned three _centuries_ ,” the spirit stressed. “And that only for the crimes that were stated at the entrance. More may be added at a later time if more crimes are brought to light.”

 

On the inside, he was boiling with rage, but he was old enough to control such impulses from showing on the outside. “You do not look like someone who would keep an old man from seeing his beloved sister,” he stated, moving so that his body portrayed an old, helpless man.

 

“I'm not,” the spirit replied, giving Dumbledore hope. “As soon as you completely the penance period for _all_ of your committed crimes, you're free to go up the Heaven.”

 

Dumbledore was silent for some moments, contemplating his choices. “Three centuries you said?”

 

“Yes,” the spirit replied.

 

“How can my penance be longer than my life span? I lived for just over a century!” he complained.

 

“Killing a person with the Killing Curse takes less than a minute. But what the murderer takes from their victim was more than a mere minute. They take their victim's lifetime,” the spirit patiently explained. “So, what should be used to measure the crime? The time it took to commit it? Or rather the time that was forcefully taken?” he asked challenging.

 

Phrased like that, the latter was the answer his heart agreed with the most. At least if he looked at the greater picture. But if he looked at the individual picture, his own time of penance, there was only one answer he could give, “The time to commit the crime.”

 

The spirit shook his head. There he went out of his way and offered Dumbledore the chance to reduce his penance time by ten percent and he did not use it.

 

“Especially if it was done for the greater good,” Dumbledore added.

 

“Do you know who else said they did something for 'the greater good'?” the spirit asked, but did not give Dumbledore time to answer, time was running out, the next new addition to Hell would appear in front of him soon. “So do you want to go to Heave or not?” he asked.

 

“Is there no other way for me to see my sister?” Dumbledore asked.

 

“If she is in Heaven, doing your penance is your only option to join her there,” the spirit replied.

 

“And if she's not?” Dumbledore asked, having noticed the shady formulation.

 

“Then you'll never see her again if neither of you decided to follow the path of penance to Heaven.”

 

Dumbledore sighed in resignation. It seems like there was only one way for him. “Is there a chance of reduction for good conduct?”

 

“There is not,” the spirit replied. “However,” he paused intentionally wanting to give Dumbledore false hope, “there is a penalty for too much denegation and negotiation. Acedia being a sin and all that,” he explained offhandedly.

 

“And avarice is not?” Dumbledore wanted to ask, but thought better of it.

 

“It is,” the spirit replied with a smirk.

 

_Great!_ Dumbledore groaned. _He got through my Occlumency shields?! How can he get past them?_ he wondered outraged. Not even Tom had been able to overpower them.

 

“Enough loitering,” the spirit said with finality. “Do you want to do penance or not?”

 

With no other choices—his every though being laid open like a book preventing him from coming up with a clever scheme—he thought of his beloved sister. “I'll do penance,” he finally decided.

 

As soon as the words left his mouth he was forcefully Apparated once again. This time, however, the scene that greeted him was even more unfriendly than the previous room with its stone benches and green-yellow lights. The first thing he noticed was the stinging smell of sulphur, which made him want to retch. This was when he noticed that he was immobilized. Everything but his head was frozen in place.

 

“Finite Incantatem” he called out, hoping to cancel the curse with his wandless magic, but it was no use. He tried again and again, but still, he was unable to move out of the fire that had started to burn beneath him. While it did not burn his clothes, he could still feel the heath of the flames that was increasing by the minute, the smell of sulphur remaining constant.

 

Sweat was dripping down his face as he desperately called “Finite Incantatem” again and again until his cry sounded more like ‘Find it ehin cartoon.’

 

“I reconsider!” he finally called out. “I changed my mind. Please take me away from here!” he screamed, but they were deaf to his pleas. Once a decision was made, it could not be taken back.

 

It was only when he was already full of adrenalin, sure that he would be consumed by the flames, when the flames receded. His relief was only short lived though. Soon after the flames lit up again, reaching higher than his head as if someone had thrown oil into the fire. It took Dumbledore some moments to realized that this time the flames, while still shining red and yellow, were freezing cold rather than burning hot.

 

Dumbledore did not know how much time did pass with an unpredictable mixture of rising hot and cold flames, before he received his first vision. He saw himself entering the Hospital Wing. Based on his white hair and the cut of his robes, he mused that it must have happened in the last twenty years. His assumption was confirmed when he saw the Golden Trio. _Late spring of 1994,_ he correctly guessed.

 

“ _You meddle with time,”_ was the last accusation Tom had thrown at him and it seemed like his penance would start from the bottom of the long list.

 

He watched how he instructed Hermione to use the Time Turner and then was forced to watched how she and Harry rescued Buckbeak and Sirius. Not that he minded watching the events, the opposite was the case. He found the whole happenings more than interesting and the fact the flames were burning low at his feet during the whole vision was a welcomed bonus in his eyes.

 

It was only when he saw how Hermione and Harry returned to the Hospital Wing after they successfully completed the task he’d given them, that it went downhill. The doors of the Hospital Wing had just closed behind him, when Hell broke loose.

 

All of a sudden he felt his cheek getting scratched, then a hard hit to his head. It was not long before he realized that once a vision ended, he was forced to relieve through all the negative experience, be it emotional or physical, everyone had felt during the previous vision. First he went through Severus’s experience, then Sirius, followed by Hermione and Harry before he screamed his voice hoarse when he was forced through the pain of a werewolf transformation as he relieved Remus’s experience of the night. Pettigrew’s fear that followed felt like a relaxing bath in comparison.

 

With relief Dumbledore welcomed the hot flames. When the image of him discussing the Tri-wizard Tournament started, he immediately called out for help again. He knew what pain awaited him. It was of no use.

 

And so the years passed, he would be consumed by the flames, see a vision of his committed crime he had to do penance for by feeling all the pain he’d caused with his action before the cycle would start again with the flames.

 

 

He just came out of the vision how he acquainted the Elder Wand when a voice called, “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” His memory had gotten blurry, but still the voice sounded familiar in his ears. If he could just remember to whom it belonged to.

 

It was only when the flames receded that he was able to make out the figure of a tall man with wavy black hair. When the man stepped closer, he recognised Tom Riddle. _The culprit of my current predicament._ He scowled.

 

“Advocate Riddle,” Tom said, amused by the hate Dumbledore threw it him, giddy with pleasure to torment the old torn in his side.

 

“Tom,” Dumbledore said in greeting. _How can it be that he is free to walk around?_ he wondered.

 

Tom just smiled at the old man’s thought and repeated the crimes he’d accused Dumbledore of at the entrance. “You already served two-hundred ninety nine years out of the three hundred you’ve gained for them.”

 

As on cue, Dumbledore sighed in relief. His eyes twinkling merrily in anticipation of his freedom.

 

His relief was short lived. Tom, after a short paused where he enjoyed the hope rising up, smirked at Dumbledore and said, “Before you can receive your pass to Heaven, I need to confirm that you’ve not committed any more crimes which you still need to atone for.”

 

“There is nothing more,” Dumbledore replied, his voice sounding calm and secure. Just like a kind grandfather would.

 

“I disagree. But I'm confident that you'll bear the price for the crimes that were not taken into account at your entrance with the same endurance and passion. So let's see what crimes you still have to atone...” Tom said and used his power as an advocate to silence Dumbledore for the next minutes. He would only end up in a pointless argument with the old man otherwise.

 

“Where to begin?” he mussed out loud for the theatrical effect. “How about the crimes you committed against Harry Potter? A quite intriguing fellow he was, don’t you think? Let’s see,” he began and took out a pen to add the new crimes to the list. “Ah, yes. The famous Quidditch match in his first year where I cursed his broom. While you cast the spell that slowed down his fall, you should have cast the counter curse minutes earlier. Poor Severus had to do it for you instead. Ten years sound good for it.”

 

When Tom looked up after writing down the crime and sentence, he saw that Dumbledore was moving his month, trying and failing to complain about this verdict.

 

“Save your breath for later, old man. There are still more crimes I can list and you’ll need your breath for your _beloved_ redemption,” he mocked.

 

“The second incident we need to add to your list would be that you allowed Potter and also Malfoy to walk alone into the Forbidden Forrest. In the middle of the night no-less! What responsible adult does this?” he questioned. “And you knew that Hagrid left his _‘cute_ ’ pet Acromantulas there. Five years.

 

“My favourite from Potter’s first year: How you so conveniently left the protection of the Philosopher's Stone up to him and his friends. You took the stone out of Gringotts to hid it behind ‘protections’ that mere first year students could overcome. You wanted to test him, didn’t you? Pathetic. Twenty two years.

 

“And when he was recovering in the Hospital Wing, you had nothing better to do than to steal a Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Bean from him. The _poor_ boy just recovered from nearly being killed and was still traumatised from killing Quirinus Quirrell, and _you_ have nothing better to do than to steal sweats from him. Sixty six years.”

 

Dumbledore was even more outraged now. If he could, he would have cursed Tom right about now, either with words or with actual curses. Sixty six years for stealing a piece of candy?! The absurdity of it. If this continued, he would spent another three hundred years in Hell.

 

“Nah, just these events from Potter’s first year gained you an extra one hundred and three years. We still have six more years to go. So twice the time would be a more accurate guess,” Tom told him, having heard the other’s thoughts.

 

_But I was already dead during Harry’s seventh year!_ Dumbledore thought outraged.

 

“With that being said, let’s continue with Potter’s second year, shall we?” he asked. “Gilderoy Lockhart,” Tom state and shuttered. That had been one creepy man. “Hogwarts’ staff hiring procedure explicitly states that potential candidates have to give a test lecture. A book signing does _not_ count as a test lecture. Forty eight years for traumatising all the poor students.

 

“And then we had the lovely Chamber of Secrets affair. How convenient for you to never have asked the ghost of Myrtle Warren how she died. With how eager you were to frame me, one would have thought that this would be the first thing you did.” Tom shook is head in reprimand. “Thirty three sounds like good punishment for this.”

 

“And since you knew that I was a Parselmouth, and it was a gift solely inherited by the Slytherin line, you should have figured out sooner that the creature must be a snake. And there are only so many snakes that can petrify their victims and would led to killed roosters. Take another thirty three years,” Tom said joyfully in a mock repeat of how Dumbledore had rewarded Harry and friends with a ridiculous amount of house points during Potter’s first year.

 

_Two hundred seventeen,_ Tom quickly calculated the intermediate result. _Nah, let’s make it three hundred again_ , he decided.

 

“Potter’s third year. You were very cooperative with the Aurors and the Ministry in that year, weren’t you? At least in the beginning. Allowing all the dementors on the school ground? That alone is worth fifty two years of doing penance. But you did not even think about providing special Patronus lessons to the students, less handling out free chocolates, which increases the verdict to eighty two years,” Tom stated.

 

 

“For the Quidditch match which you allowed to be played in the middle of a heavy storm you gain seven years. Be glad that only Potter’s broom and not his neck had been broken as a result,” he mocked.

 

“Since I’m being merciful today, I would say we stop today with how you on purpose hurt Ronald Weasley when he was in the Hospital Wing with his broken leg. Four years. So I believe that we’ll see each other again sometime in the next three hundred and nine years.”

 

With a satisfied smirk on his face, he told Dumbledore his typical parting words, “Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear,” and then turned around and walked away from him, his job done for the moment. _Until next time,_ he thought with a smirk. Today had certainly been a very good day for him.

 

**-~-~- A** ****H** ** ****ell of** ** ****H** ** ****eaven** ** **-~-~-**

  


Over three hundred years have passed since his last visit to Dumbledore. Tom was already eagerly awaiting the day Dumbledore when scroll would show up on his daily pile of clients to visit. It was only when Dumbledore had less than a month to serve that his scroll landed on Tom’s desk. He smiled. Just one little thing to add today, he decided giddily. Three hundred years were far too long without torturing the old man.

  


“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” he called out when he reached the spot in Hell that was reserved for the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts. “You were found guilty of the following crimes,” he began and read the wrongdoings from the scroll in a monotone voice. “They earned you six hundred and nine years of penance. You served six hundred and eight years and eleven month already. But I can see that there is more you need to atone for.

 

“When you saw how the beast loving Rubeus Hagrid was expelled, you insisted that he may remain as the gamekeeper. But you did not do it out of the goodness of your heart, did you? No, you did it on the mere hope that the half-giant would turn out to be a second Newt Scamander in the making.” Tom loved how Dumbledore looked at him full of shock. Regrettably, Dumbledore’s thought did not give away if he was shocked at Tom knowing of his true motivation or if Dumbledore was shocked because he never had realised his own motive before today.

 

“Since it happened in 1940, nineteen plus forty years should be a fitting time. Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear,” he said in parting.

  


**-~-~- A** ****H** ** ****ell of** ** ****H** ** ****eaven** ** **-~-~-**

 

“Happy six hundred sixty six years of redemption, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” Tom happily greeted the man. “I hope after watching all your misdoings and how they affected the people around you, you still remember the significance of the number 666 in Arithmancy and Muggle occult.”

 

Dumbledore was too weakened by the feelings he’d lived through in the last years to even glare at Tom.

 

“To celebrate the event, I thought I would mention a certain event connected to the love of your life. But first the legal formalities...” And as usual his scroll, that was getting longer which each visit, was read out.

 

There were so many thing connected to Gellert that Dumbledore did not know what Tom would accuse him of today. The crime Tom brought forth surprised him thought. He’d never thought of it like that. He’d truthfully only had done it because of the blood wards when he placed Harry with the Dursleys. In retrospect, he should consider himself lucky that what he was accused of now never happened.

 

“One hundred and thirty five years for purposefully sending Harry Potter to live with his magic hating and abusive aunt and uncle in that hope to make Potter an Obscurial, whose powers you wanted to harness in order to defeat me. Or maybe just because you’re a power hungry bastard who liked his beloved Gellert wanted an Obscurial as his personal pet.”

 

The next one hundred and thirty five years were the worst so far. Seeing and later feeling first hand what Harry had gone through during his childhood was heart breaking.

  


**-~-~- A** ****H** ** ****ell of** ** ****H** ** ****eaven** ** **-~-~-**

 

**AN2:** I rather not make any guesses on when the next part will be updated, but hope that you enjoyed this new drabble anyway. And don’t forget to leave a review with any crimes I may have missed from the years 1-3.


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